


Buried Alive

by Riona



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Fucked Up, Gen, Non-Explicit Masturbation, Non-Explicit Rape Ideation, Other, Post-Season 2, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Recklessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riona/pseuds/Riona
Summary: Murphy, alone in the bunker.(Please check the warnings in the tags before reading!)





	Buried Alive

If Murphy’s being honest, he’s made a few mistakes. If he’s being _really_ honest, yeah, he’s kind of a piece of shit. Whatever.

So maybe he deserves this. Doesn’t mean he has to sit here and take it.

But there’s only one way out that he can see, and it isn’t one he likes the look of.

If it’s a way out for him at all. All the fucked-up shit he’s lived through, there’s a part of him starting to think he might actually be immortal. Which would be great news under other circumstances, but right now, with it looking like he’ll probably be spending the rest of eternity alone in a sealed bunker, it just feels like another way for the universe to kick sand in his face.

Maybe he’ll run out of food and starve down to bones and just... keep going, alive and conscious the whole time.

At least the horror of that would be a distraction from how fucking alone he is. Weird how being around people who hated him was better than this.

He lies on his back on the couch, dangling the gun one-handed above him, looking up the barrel. Daydreams about pulling the trigger accidentally, because he knows he’s too chickenshit to do it on purpose.

-

It seems weird to be looking for ways of passing the time when it’ll only take him closer to the moment he runs out of food, but he can’t take the boredom. If he doesn’t distract himself, all he’ll be doing is thinking, and that’s _really_ not an appealing prospect right now.

Coming up with things he wants to say to Jaha in alphabetical order at least gives him a brief challenge. “Jaha,” he says aloud, slightly muffled, the handle of the gun pressed against his mouth like he’s kissing it, “you are an _asshole_. You are a _bastard_. You are a _cunt_ , _damn_ you, you’re _evil_ , you can get _floated_...”

He actually does kiss the handle of the gun. He kisses it again, he licks a long stripe up the side and it’s gross. He kisses the barrel, feeling his heart rate jerk up.

Still doesn’t accidentally set it off, though. So that’s fine.

-

He jerks himself off a lot, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? Challenges himself to see whether he can come to every one of the video diaries stored in the bunker. Evil AI, sure, she’s kind of sexy. The ones that are just guys and a load of scientific babble are tougher, but he manages it eventually.

He’s kind of worried by how often he keeps coming back to the one of the guy shooting himself in the head.

When he’s rubbed himself raw over the videos and he can’t stand the sound of their stupid voices for another second, he moves on to experimentally fantasising about everyone he knows. Clarke, all high and mighty and holier-than-thou, looking down on him the entire time. Bellamy; maybe Murphy could’ve struck some fucked-up deal with him and let him down from the noose, half-dead, voice rasping. Raven, probably back when they were both waiting to die.

(Seems to be a lot of that going around. He’d told her he didn’t want to die alone. Apparently the universe was listening and decided he was going to die as alone as fucking possible.)

Connor and Myles. _Before_ Murphy killed them. He’s kind of relieved to realise he still has _some_ standards. You’re probably not supposed to fantasise about the dead, even back when they were still alive, but whatever; he’ll be one of them soon enough.

Clarke’s mom? Wasn’t what was on his mind when he was being treated by her, but he can look back and appreciate that, sure, she’s kind of hot in a thirty-years-older-than-him way. Maybe in front of Clarke. Jaha?

No. He fucking refuses.

Fine.

He ties Jaha up in his head. It’s as ugly as he can make it. Pitches him over the side of the boat afterwards, into the jaws of that colossal eel thing.

Emori? Made a big impression, for how short a time he knew her. She’d be the one tying _Murphy_ up. He still kind of admires her for how thoroughly she screwed them over.

He thinks a lot about her knife against his throat.

Would’ve saved him a lot of trouble if she’d pressed a little harder.

-

He spends five hours just screaming. Can’t speak for a week after that. Not that there’s anyone to talk to, but he’s gotten into the habit of talking to himself, and he actually weirdly misses it.

Probably the only person on the Ark – or on the planet now, he guesses – who’s ever wished John Murphy would talk to them more. He’s pretty sure most of the people who tried to hang him for killing Wells never gave a shit about Wells in the first place. Just wanted Murphy dead.

They’d laugh to see him here.

“Hey, you’re back” is the first thing he says when his voice tentatively starts to return, faint and croaky.

His body’s still trying to repair itself, apparently. Seems like a waste of effort.

He doesn’t tell himself that. Doesn’t need to hear it.

-

He combs his fingers through his horrible greasy not-washed-in-ten-weeks hair, working through the tangles, pretending it’s someone else trying to comfort him. Some faceless person; he can’t even imagine who it would be. He can’t bring himself to picture his parents, even here at the end.

He kisses the knuckles of his left hand, one by one, and pretends someone else cares enough about him to be doing it, and almost starts crying.

At least he’s going to die in here and nobody has to know.

-

Sometimes he tells himself that he’ll get out of here and he’ll be a changed man. He’ll live a better life. He’ll turn himself into someone worth knowing.

Sometimes he tells himself that he’ll get out of here and he’ll still be a piece of shit, but at least he’ll be alive.

He closes his eyes and breathes and breathes, just while he has the chance.


End file.
